


Pretty

by thedevilchicken



Category: Firefly
Genre: Dancing, Mid-Canon, Multi, No Smut, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-07-01
Updated: 2004-07-01
Packaged: 2018-04-06 18:49:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4232832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilchicken/pseuds/thedevilchicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kaylee loved that dress.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretty

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written on 1 July 2004.

Kaylee loved that dress. She knew she should’ve thrown it out or sold it on, bought a little something she had a little more use for, but she kept it. She knew she’d never ever use it again, not in the strictest sense of the word cuz how many ships’ mechanics got to go to the ball, after all, but she kept it anyways. It was pink and white and covered in all those wide, lacy ruffles, and it reminded her when she looked on it that under all the grease and grime that she picked up in the engine room, she was still pretty.

Sometimes, when she’d had a fix of the particularly mechanical persuasion, when Simon had ignored her, when the captain had – only accidentally – insulted her, and sometimes for no real reason at all except maybe that she had the yearning for it, she’d slip on out of her dirty, greasy day clothes and into the dress. She liked the way it hugged her round the middle and the way the skirt jutted out in that big ol’ perfect round hoop. She liked the colours and the ruffles and the way she felt like a girl and not just Serenity’s mechanic. It wasn’t all too often that she felt that way. Not often at all, really.

So one night, when she figured no one else was likely to be about cuz all sensible folk would be sleeping, she left her bunk and tiptoed on down to the cargo bay. It was real difficult to be quiet cuz the big hooped skirt she loved so much kept on catching on rails and doors and hatches and things but she got there in the end, down the stairs, and for a moment she just stood there, barefoot, wondering if anyone had heard. No one followed her in so she tried out an experimental twirl. She smiled to herself and did it again; soon she was spinning through that cargo bay like a pink ruffled top, remembering the night of the dance.

She’d felt so pretty, in that dress, all those guys around her in their fancy tailored suits, really listening to her when she talked. She had felt _so_ pretty. Not beautiful, no, because the other girls were beautiful in their expensive dresses, with their made-up faces and their twisty, perfect hair. And she’d seen Inara, too – looking at her, she’d known she’d never be _that_ beautiful, not like her, because no one ever could be.

Then someone coughed. She stopped dead and dizzy and reeling, shivered like she’d caught a chill and couldn’t say as she really wanted to look up. But she did; there was Inara at the top of the stairs, looking right back down at her with a little tilt of her head and a frown at her brow. Kaylee’s cheeks flushed and she kinda hung her head before she muttered something under her breath and turned and fled, ran away on past Inara and her questioning gaze right back to her bunk, and locked the door.

***

That first time Inara caught her she’d been embarrassed, a little ashamed; it was like she had no right to be out of her oil-stained Capri pants wearing something so unsuited to her real, honest station in life. She might’ve seemed moody for the next few days after but really she just felt bad, wondering who Inara might’ve told about her spinning through the cargo bay at two in the morning like a prize fool, but then she realised that no one had said a thing about it. Seemed no one was going to, cuz Inara hadn’t said a thing.

Of course, it would’ve been kinda hard for Inara to chatter about it when she wasn’t even on board Serenity. She’d taken her shuttle and made a little trip on to Persephone, to some client or other whose name they never knew but who must’ve been pretty rich. She wasn’t back for maybe a week and by that time they’d landed someplace quiet out where warrants for Simon and River’s apprehension hadn’t quite reached yet.

The day Inara came back, pretty much everyone was out; Mal and Zoë were fixing to shake on some deal with a local fella while Wash window shopped and Shepherd Book shepherded Simon and River around the little town like he knew the place. As far as she knew, Jayne was shining his guns in the cargo bay, spread out all over the floor like a gunmetal blanket, and Kaylee herself spent the afternoon tinkering with the engine. Until Inara came in and found her.

She thought, at first, as she pulled on her dress, that Inara was playing games, making fun; sure, she knew that just wasn’t Inara’s way, but it didn’t exactly do lots to put her mind at ease. Inara had said she’d got a surprise, that she was to put on the dress and meet her in the cargo bay. She felt vaguely ridiculous, blushing fair across her cheekbones, but she did as she was told. She stepped inside.

Jayne was waiting for her. There was music playing and suddenly it didn’t matter that Kaylee knew Inara must’ve bribed Jayne to be there or that she must’ve bought him that expensive-looking suit back on Persephone, the cuffs of which he was tugging on like the overgrown kid he pretty much was. He was still wearing his heavy black work boots and looked like he might bolt for the door any second. Still, though he wasn’t her first choice, or her second, or – Zoë-permitting – her third, he was there. And it was a very good sign when he didn’t laugh at her.

Inara guided them together and then turned up the music, playing from a strange little gramophone she must’ve brought out of her shuttle. Really the most surprising thing about it all was that Jayne could dance – not well by any means but well enough - and though he shot Inara a few odd looks now and then, he kept his mouth firmly shut. When he forgot the steps, Inara set a hand on his shoulder and one on his waist and guided him firmly. It was, well… nice, even if it wasn’t exactly a ball. She felt _so_ pretty.

But after two or three dances it had to end and Jayne mooched off to his bunk, tugging at his collar though it fit him pretty much perfectly. Kaylee thanked Inara, smiling a huge, toothy white smile, and hurried away to change out of the dress before anyone else could come back and see.

***

Whatever it was that Inara had over Jayne, it must’ve been good; over the next few weeks they met a few more times, danced for a while till Kaylee’s head spun and then went on about their business. Inara knew more dances than Kaylee knew existed and she was a pretty good teacher, it seemed; Jayne never seemed over enthusiastic to be there and his work boots weren’t exactly best suited to the work but he went along with it too and kept shut about it after. Probably for fear of Wash and the captain and maybe even Zoë poking fun at Jayne the Ballroom Dancer.

But then they stopped. Kaylee decided it must’ve been because of the job the captain was planning but Jayne was avoiding her more than was normal and Inara wasn’t actually on board but away on some planet where they were supposed to meet her in like four or five days’ time.

They’d landed on some backwater moon where Mal had scored some sort of a deal and to celebrate they’d gone down to the tavern down on Main Street. There was a guy playing a piano that badly wanted tuning with a violinist and a bass player scratching along, a tune they all knew and tapped their feet along to. After a few drinks it seemed like a good idea to get up and dance and Mal volunteered, then Simon, and then, while Mal went over to the shady-looking local in the corner to close the deal, she sat back down at their table, torn between watching Zoë and Wash out there on the dance floor, Simon and River at the bar, and Jayne as he played cards with a bunch of surly locals. She left early. It wasn’t the worst birthday she’d ever had, she told herself. She didn’t know what she’d been expecting.

The cargo bay was full of little twinkling lights and candles strewn haphazardly around the benches and the bases of the walls. There was music playing, something soft and flowy that snaked all through Kaylee’s weary head and made her sway with the rhythm of it. Her eyes drifted shut and she breathed in the warm scent of vanilla and sighed out loud. It was all so shiny she could’ve laughed with it.

“Happy birthday,” said Inara, somehow just inches behind her. Her voice was soft, almost a whisper, muted by the sound of heavy boots lumbering up the ramp.

“When I was through with the game you’d gone,” Jayne said, slightly breathless like maybe he’d run to catch her. “I saw you dancin’ with Mal and the Doc and I was gonna see if maybe you’d dance with me. I know I ain’t no great mover but it bein’ your birthday and all…”

Inara smiled. “Jayne, just ask her,” she said.

But Jayne didn’t say a word; he just held out his big, slightly grubby hand and Kaylee took it, stepping on up closer to him. Then Inara stepped in behind her.

With her cheek resting on Jayne’s shoulder and Inara’s cheek resting against hers, they danced. Two pairs of arms twined around her waist and she smiled against Jayne’s prickly throat. She’d pack away the dress in the morning. She didn’t need it to feel pretty; this was good enough.


End file.
